A poem!

YaArArYa · Jun 29, 2022

This book shall walk with this/
This shall walk with this book/
wet with words never dry/
Wet with words that this cry/
Cried in silence/
But written quite proud/
Read it not/
You are not allowed/
Only added to by this/
And seen by the moon/
Only hope to see her soon/
When night fall she will be out/
Always out but not always in View/
Higher than her there are few/
This book is full of words for her i have drew/

-Yar

evergreensSequoiaseucalyptusandOaks · Jul 15, 2022

Poetry - I've read a Few - I'm adding one that I've known to be True ~ it's about humility nobility and a few other things ~ Penned by a Female Poet ~ Alice Cary

She only reached the age of 51 for she passed in 1871 ~ Poem written in 1849 ~ "Here it Goes".......Alice Cary "NOBILITY" ~ 1849

True worth is in being, not seeming,—
In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good—not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There’s nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.
We get back our mete as we measure—
We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.
’Tis not in the pages of story
The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
Alas! it is only to prove
That nothing’s so sacred as honor,
And nothing so loyal as love!
We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.
Through envy, through malice, through hating,
Against the world, early and late,
No jot of our courage abating—
Our part is to work and to wait
And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth.
For he who is honest is noble
Whatever his fortunes or birth.

A poem!

YaArArYa

evergreensSequoiaseucalyptusandOaks